The needle slides through the jagged flesh and Rhys screams in pain. He flinches and jerks to the side as if to get away from whatever is hurting him. Lincoln holds him tighter, straining against his struggles.
If I don’t hurry, it’s not going to get done. I continue on and try to block Rhys out of my thoughts. It’s just a little bit of sewing. Just like how I patch up clothes when they’re torn. Same thing, just…bloodier.
I go back and forth with the needle, pulling the wound together so the hole is made smaller and smaller. It’s definitely not perfect or straight, but it’s getting there. If Rhys would just hold still I’d be able to do a much better job.
I’m only vaguely aware of Sarah hovering behind me. She’s watching everything I do. Garlind returns from his scouting and stands back with Tabitha.
My hands slip with all the blood. I keep losing the needle as it falls through my fingers and dangles on the remaining thread. Luckily, it never touches the ground or the risk of infection would be infinitely worse.
The wound grows smaller until I sew the last stitch. The skin is gathered together with no more blood seeping out. It’s a start toward his recovery.
“Hang on to him tighter,” I instruct Lincoln. I wait until he gets a firmer grip before I do anything else.
I finish off by cleaning the area with the rum. That’s when Rhys really screams. His voice cuts through the silent air like a cleaver. It makes my hands shake but it doesn’t stop me. I don’t stop pouring until his belly is devoid of blood and I can really see my handiwork.
It’s an ugly wound.
But if Rhys survives this, he’s going to have an impressive scar to boast about. He can recall the time he almost died and survived a bullet wound. He can tell everyone the piece of metal is still inside him and only made him stronger.
I hope he lives that long.
My First Aid kit has a few sterilized gauze pads in it. I used one to cover my row of stitches and secure it with tape. As long as he can keep it clean and dry, he will have a better chance of surviving. I don’t want to lose him.
“I’m finished,” I say, already cleaning my hands and the needle with water. “He needs to stay still and hydrated. We should take it in turns to watch over him until tomorrow.”
“I’ll take first shift,” Sarah offers. I think she feels best when she’s being useful. She might not have been able to help stitch him back together, but this she can do.
“Okay, Sarah first and then we’ll rotate. Two hour shifts.”
“I’ll go next,” Tabitha says.
We decide on the order and then everybody takes a few breaths to relax. Rhys falls into a restless sleep. I’m not going to insist he be kept awake. After what he just went through, I think sleep is the best thing he can do.
I stay close to him, just in case. Not that I really know what more I can do for him, but I can at least watch and make sure he’s breathing. I know CPR but that probably isn’t going to help much if there is more internal damage than we know about.
The day comes to a close. We talk about starting a fire for light and warmth but ultimately decide against it. If the shooters are still around, we don’t want to send out a clear signal of our whereabouts. I don’t have that many needles to use.
My two-hour shift is last so I get some sleep while I can. It’s not deep though, not when I’m still so worried about Rhys. I wake at least every hour to check on him. I know he’s being watched by the others at all times, but I can’t help it. I have to check too.
In the morning, we’re all tired.
As soon as the sun comes up, we’re all awake and eager to get started for the day. Even Rhys wakes up. I hover over him, taking in every little detail and checking for signs of danger.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. He tries to sit up but I place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Keep resting. You don’t have to move right now. Wait a bit longer.”
He goes limp as his body relaxes again. “Water.”
I grab his bottle and press it to his lips. Some of the liquid dribbles down his chin which I wipe away quickly.
“Thank you,” he whispers. Everything about him seems weaker than it should. He can’t even speak with any kind of energy.
“I stitched you up yesterday and the bleeding seems to have stopped. I think your prognosis is good.” I add a smile to try to reassure him. He needs to believe he’ll make a full recovery before it can happen.
“Thank you.”
“Are you in pain?”
“A little.”
“I have some mild pain killers if you want them.”
He shakes his head and then winces. “Keep them. Might need them more later.”
And that’s why Rhys is so easy to like. He’s not going to accept anything if he thinks there is a chance the rest of the group might need them at some point in the future. I know Lincoln or Tabitha would gobble them up now if they were in pain.
“Rest up, okay?” I say.
He nods and closes his eyes. I check his pulse which is still beating a steady rhythm under my fingers. He’s breathing and kind of alert. As long as he can stave off any infection, I think he might just make a full recovery.
“When’s he going to be able to move again?” Lincoln’s voice comes from behind me, startling the living daylights from me.
I turn around to face the others. They’re all waiting on my answer. “He needs to rest for as long as possible. He’s not going to be able to walk until he’s stronger.”
“So, when?”
Irritation quickly sprouts within me. “I don’t know. Maybe a day, maybe two. I’m not a real doctor, remember?”
“Two days is too long to stay here. We need to keep moving.”
“So we reassess tomorrow. I’m not a fortune teller.”
Lincoln’s jaw twitches. I know he doesn’t want to hear the truth, but I’m not going to lie and say Rhys will be up and dancing by lunchtime. His body has a lot of healing to do. There is no way to rush it along. Not these days.
Garlind is the next to speak. “Maisy, let’s go for a walk. We might be able to find some water to purify. We can always do with more water.”
I’m grateful for his suggestion. I’ve been sitting here for too long with too little sleep. I need something else to do for a while. Especially now I know Rhys is somewhat comfortable and okay.
Garlind leads me away from the group but doesn’t say anything until we are out of earshot range. “Don’t let him get to you. He thinks he’s doing the best for the group.”
My hands unclench from their fists. “He could have some compassion. Rhys got shot. It’s not like he stubbed his toe and is being a baby about it.”
“I know. You were really impressive yesterday. Rhys would probably be dead if you didn’t take charge.” He gives me a little smile as he steals a glance my way.
“Anyone could have done what I did.” My cheeks burn with a hint of a blush.
“No, they couldn’t. You saved his life.”
I change the subject so I’m not at the center of attention anymore. “Sarah seemed really interested in what I did. I might start to teach her some of the First Aid I remember. I think she’d be good at it.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“I don’t think Lincoln and Tabitha will want to learn,” I comment.
“No, probably not. I’d like to, though. They’re good skills to have.”
“I’ll teach you both.” The thought of being able to teach them something fills me with pride. Sarah is so skilled at hunting and Garlind seems to know everything about everything. Sharing the few skills I have will be a nice change.
We walk on in our search for water. I don’t think that’s the main purpose of this excursion but we can at least pretend that’s what we’re doing. I can feel the anger subside as we get farther away from our camp.
“Do you think it’s dangerous to stay put for a few days while Rhys recovers?” I ask. I trust Garlind’s opinion way more than Lincoln’s.
&nb
sp; “Probably not. I think whoever was shooting at us yesterday is likely to keep their distance. They were protecting their property and the threat is gone now. If I were them, I’d just stay where I was and keep an eye out.”
“That’s what I thought too. Lincoln doesn’t seem to agree.”
“We don’t have to do everything he says. If it comes to a vote, I think he’ll get downvoted.”
If we get to vote. Lincoln usually makes the decisions and that’s it. We haven’t really challenged him up to this moment. Maybe he’s walked all over us for long enough. After all, Rhys’s life depends on it.
We walk around for a while longer without finding any fresh water. Garlind and I end up hanging some plastic bags to collect condensation in a sunny area. It won’t be much water, but it will be something.
Returning to camp, I see Lincoln and Tabitha are huddled together and deep in conversation. I sit with Rhys and Sarah, trying to ignore them. Clearly, they’re not going to include us in their discussion. Whatever.
That night, we take it in turns again to watch Rhys. He largely sleeps peacefully. I made sure he ate something to keep up his strength and he sipped water every time it was offered. I think he’s doing better.
In the morning, the discussion I dread quickly comes up.
“We’re leaving today,” Lincoln states. He doesn’t leave room for questions. He stares me down, waiting for a challenge.
Instead of playing into his trap, I crouch next to Rhys and feel his forehead. It’s a little warm. “Are you feeling stronger today?”
“I think so.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to walk?”
He hesitates and I can see the truth in his eyes. His lie comes from his mouth. “Probably. I’ll be okay.”
Lincoln struts around like he’s won an argument. Forcing someone who almost died to trek through the forest is hardly what I would consider a win. Rhys should rest. If he’s going to fully recover from his gunshot, he needs to take it easy.
And yet we leave anyway.
Garlind and I walk on either side of Rhys. He can stumble along on his own but his legs are shaky. All I can think is there wasn’t any real reason why we had to keep going today. Another twenty-four hours probably wouldn’t have made a difference.
When I first met Lincoln, I thought he was a nice guy. He knew all the right things to say and did everything he said he would. I thought we had a strong ally in our group, combining resources with a better shot of us all surviving.
Yet the more time I spend with him, the more his true colors emerge. He always puts him and his sister above the rest of us. If he doesn’t get his own way, he manipulates things to make sure he does. It’s subtle, and I can only tell when I study him closely, but it’s there.
His dark side.
As usual, Lincoln leads the way with Tabitha by his side. Sarah lingers in the middle between us and them. I don’t think she feels comfortable enough to walk with them and join in their conversation. Sarah is wary of the pair, which means we should all be. I trust her instincts, they have worked out well so far.
Garlind, Rhys, and I lag behind. The gap between us gets larger as the day progresses. Rhys has a layer of sweat covering his skin that is worrying. He staggers more than walks.
“We need to stop for a break,” I call out.
Everyone stops.
Lincoln turns around slowly. “We haven’t gone far enough yet. Another few hours and then we can take a break.”
I grit my teeth together. “We’re taking a break now.”
Rhys slumps to the ground gratefully, not waiting for Lincoln’s verdict. I stubbornly and pointedly sit beside him. Garlind follows a few seconds later. Sarah sits too so it’s only the pair of them still standing.
“Majority rules,” I say.
“We’re wasting time,” Lincoln retorts. “Are you trying to get us all killed?”
“No, I’m making sure none of us die.” I open my backpack and take out some crackers, handing them around. I purposely don’t look at Lincoln. I don’t want him to know how fast my heart is beating right now.
Rhys accepts only one cracker and then takes a long time eating it. He’s still panting even though the walk wasn’t that difficult. I place my hand on his forehead and find his skin burning and clammy. He’s not doing well at all. And yet he hasn’t complained once. If it was Lincoln in this condition, he would have insisted we stay put for a week, at least.
I lean in closer to Garlind and whisper, “I think we need to stop here for the day.” I glance at Rhys so he understands the message. Walking on today might just be the end of him.
Garlind nods. “So that’s what we’ll do.”
At least I have him on my side. Finally, someone that sees reason. I turn my attention back to Rhys. “Can I have a look at your wound?”
“It’s fine.”
“Let me have a look then, it can’t hurt.”
He reluctantly lifts his shirt and holds it up while I gently peel back the gauze pad from his side. There’s more blood on it than I would like to see. My handiwork of stitches is ugly and raised. The whole area is red and inflamed.
“I think you’ve got an infection,” I conclude. Infections of all kinds were covered in great detail in the First Aid book. Every second paragraph was a warning about blood poisoning and how infections lead to death.
He lowers his shirt. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” He’s got to be feeling horrible right now, why doesn’t he just admit it? It’s not like we expect him to be superhuman.
“You need some antibiotics. I’ll see what I have left in my pack,” I reply. He’s not going to get rid of me that easily. I’m not going to let him die just out of some sense of pride.
I carefully go through all the medication I’ve stolen over the last couple of months. There isn’t all that much considering the number of drug stores I’ve searched. A few antibiotics are still left. I offer him one. “Take it.”
“Save it for later,” Rhys replies. His hands remain linked on his lap.
I pick up one hand and press the tablet into it. “You need this. You might not have a later if you don’t get it into your system. I’m not above holding you down.”
His gaze lifts to mine as he gives me a hint of a smile. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“Will do.”
He swallows the pill with some water and lays backwards against a tree truck. His skin is too pale for him to be well. It only reinforces my decision to let him rest here for at least a night. Hurrying now will cost him his life.
“Hey Maisy,” Sarah starts. She waits until she has my attention before continuing. “I think I can help with that infection thing. My mom would make a poultice whenever I got a cut or scrape. It always made me feel better and helped it to heal right up.”
It couldn’t hurt. Ever since I met Sarah, I’ve been impressed with the skills her parents taught her. I’m not about to turn down her help now. “What do you need to make the poultice?”
“A certain type of leaf and other stuff I can probably find in this area.”
“I’ll come and help you search. Let’s go.” There is no point in waiting around. If her poultice can help, we need to get it onto Rhys’s wound straight away.
Sarah leads me away from the group as we venture into the forest together. She gives me a description of what we’re looking for and I try to commit it to memory.
Every leaf looks just like the last one, I really have no clue about which one I should find. I’m pretty much useless as I follow Sarah around. She, on the other hand, is focused and meticulous in her search. I point out a few possible ingredients but she shakes her head at each one.
We’ve wandered so far away from the camp in our search that I can no longer see or hear the others. Hopefully we’ll be able to find our way back when we’re done.
“Can I ask you a question?” Sarah asks. Her gaze is still fixed on the forest floor as she seeks out her remaining ingredien
ts.
“Go ahead.”
“Is Garlind your boyfriend?”
I almost stumble over a tree root. Out of all the things she could have asked, that one would have been very far down my list of guesses. “What makes you think he’s my boyfriend?”
She shrugs her bony shoulders. “You’re always together. You sleep all cuddled up. You look at each other funny. Doesn’t that all mean you’re boyfriend-girlfriend?”
I wish it was that simple. “No, we’re not boyfriend-girlfriend.”
“What are you then?”
“We’re just close, I guess. Friends.”
“Sure seems like more to me,” she mutters and finds an interesting copse of trees to explore further.
I continue to follow her and carry the supplies she gathers. My mind is whirling with what she said. Do I want Garlind to be my boyfriend? In the bunker, I never thought I’d see another human being after my parents died. I never expected to have a boyfriend in my life. Love was never on the cards for me.
Since leaving the bunker, I guess I’ve been afraid to think that something like that is possible. If I don’t expect anything, I can’t get hurt. But when I lost Garlind, I was supremely hurt. My theory doesn’t exactly stand up.
It’s a moot point anyway. I can’t have Garlind as my boyfriend unless he wants me to be his girlfriend. As there has been no discussion of that, I’m not about to bring it up. I wouldn’t even know how to slip that into the conversation.
And yet…the thought makes butterflies skitter in my stomach.
Suddenly, movement catches my eye farther into the forest. I try to focus and stare at the spot. It was so quick that I would have missed it if I blinked.
It was definitely a person.
They were in the opposite direction of our temporary camp so it couldn’t have been one of our people. I try to replay the image in my mind, pick it apart and analyze it frame by frame. But my glimpse was so short and fleeting.
I’m almost certain it wasn’t one of the aliens. They weren’t tall enough and I would have been able to smell them from this distance if it was one of them. It had to be a human, just like us.
Humans are just as dangerous as the aliens. It’s not much of a relief to know it was a person. They could have a gun and kill us for our supplies. They could kill us just because they want to.
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